Statue of flesh, - immortal of the dead! Imperishable type of evanescence ! Posthumous man, - who quit'st thy narrow bed, And standest undecayed within our presence! Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning. Why should this worthless tegument endure, HORACE SMITH. ANSWER OF THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION. CHILD of the later days! thy words have broken A spell that long has bound these lungs of clay, For since this smoke-dried tongue of mine hath spoken Three thousand tedious years have rolled away. Unswathed at length, I "stand at ease" before ye. List, then, O list, while I unfold my story. Thebes was my birthplace, - an unrivaled city O, I could read you quite a Theban lecture, But then you would not have me throw discredit But heard it read, when I was very young. - Where cows and monkeys squat in rich brocade, And well-dressed crocodiles in painted cases, Rats, bats, and owls, and cats in masquerade, With scarlet flounces, and with varnished faces; Then birds, brutes, reptiles, fish, all crammed together, With ladies that might pass for well-tanned leather; Where Rameses and Sabacon lie down, And splendid Psammis in his hide of crust, Princes and heroes, - men of high renown, Who in their day kicked up a mighty dust. Their swarthy mummies kicked up dust in number, When huge Belzoni came to scare their slumber. Who'd think these rusty hams of mine were seated And ever and anon the Queen turned pale. Meanwhile the brilliant gaslights hung above her Threw a wild glare upon her shipwrecked lover. Ay, gaslights! Mock me not,- we men of yore Were versed in all the knowledge you can men tion; Who hath not heard of Egypt's peerless lore, Her patient toil, acuteness of invention ? Survey the proofs, the pyramids are thriving, Old Memnon still looks young, and I'm surviving. A land in arts and sciences prolific, Of blocks gigantic building up her fame! Crowded with signs and letters hieroglyphic, Temples and obelisks her skill proclaim! Yet, though her art and toil unearthly seem, Those blocks were brought on railroads and by steam! How, when, and why our people came to rear Well, then, in grievous times, when King Cephrenes, Thus to thy second quarry did they trust But ah!- What's this? the shades of bards Here did he lie in state, cold, stiff, and stark, and kings ANONYMOUS. ADDRESS TO THE ALABASTER SARCOPH AGUS LATELY DEPOSITED IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. THOU alabaster relic! while I hold My hand upon thy sculptured margin thrown, Let me recall the scenes thou couldst unfold, Mightst thou relate the changes thou hast known, For thou wert primitive in thy formation, Launched from the Almighty's hand at the Creation. Yes, thou wert present when the stars and skies How many thousand ages from thy birth Thou slept'st in darkness, it were vain to ask, Till Egypt's sons upheaved thee from the earth, And year by year pursued their patient task; Till thou wert carved and decorated thus, Worthy to be a king's sarcophagus. What time Elijah to the skies ascended, Thebes from her hundred portals filled the plain Thus ages rolled, but their dissolving breath As if it struggled still to be a king; Where savage beasts more savage men pursue, - Here, where I hold my hand, 't is strange to think And vainly conned the moralizing line. And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil. Kings, sages, chiefs, that touched this stone, like Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace, me, And calls forth all the wonders of her face; Where are ye now? - Where all must shortly be! Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, All is mutation; - he within this stone Was once the greatest monarch of the hour; And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes. ALEXANDER POPE. THE TOILET. HORACE SMITH. FROM "THE RAPE OF THE LOCK." AND now, unveiled, the toilet stands displayed, THE PEDDLER'S PACK. FROM "THE WINTER'S TALE." Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing. SHAKESPEARE. |